poormusic by Anna Mason

Another Song

2007-07-02T11:42:00.001-07:00

Here is another song.

Anna's Music

2007-07-02T11:41:00.001-07:00

This is a song I wrote. The harmony I was singing is slightly sharp because I had a problem with my head set. I know...excuses excuses.

Different Side

2007-07-02T11:39:00.001-07:00

This song is talking about the cyclical nature of relationships and life. "Doing it over and over again" is a reference to every pattern that you find yourself repeating. The comparison of life to a game is a statement that life can be quite trivial. Inward or outward it's all the same. Whether others are fully aware of our own trivialities, they still exist and we must deal with them from the inside--out.

Music

2007-07-02T11:38:00.001-07:00

I just sat down and played a few of my songs tonight. These are some I haven't posted yet. Mostly my back is to you.

I need to catch up on your blogs this weekend.

Hope everyone is doing well.

Anna

Karl, Head of Marketing, President

2007-07-02T11:37:00.001-07:00

Karl was Jim's right hand man.

Account Executive, Martha

2007-07-02T11:36:00.003-07:00

Martha is a part of the marketing group at Legacy.

Marlene, Publicity Director

2007-07-02T11:36:00.001-07:00

Marlene landed Jim an interview with the 700 Club in the first week of publishing.

Operations Management

2007-07-02T11:35:00.003-07:00

Jeanette is the operations manager at Legacy Road, Jim's marketing group.

Airport in Texas

2007-07-02T11:35:00.001-07:00

I'm going Home!

One Legged Man Collecting Money

2007-07-02T11:34:00.003-07:00

No one ran him away.

Interview with Ethics Organization in Cameroon

2007-07-02T11:34:00.001-07:00

Interview with Ethics Organization in Cameroon.

Interview with Governor of Yaounde, Cameroon

2007-07-02T11:33:00.001-07:00

Listen Carefully

Music

2007-07-02T11:32:00.003-07:00

My Face To You

2007-07-02T11:32:00.001-07:00

Just singing song over and over.

2006-08-17T13:43:00.000-07:00

I was born to be with one person
And hang my life on dinners
And apron strings.
But I've grown to think and run
and rummage through broken things.

Had I known then
What I know now
I wouldn't change what--
But I'd know how

I want to sing for recompense
But I wasn't born with a voice
To make a dif fer ence
And my mirror on the wall
says
I'm far from the best
Of them all

So don't do me a favor
Just to convince me
you like my flavor
I've Acquired this taste
And open minds are a waste

It feels good to be alone now. But I know feelings run out. Everything is so rigid and no one understands me. The other kind of music is too loud. And when mine fades out, theirs fades in. I hate it. I want to give it all away, because I can't keep it and be happy. I loved you but only because I wanted to watch the stars with you. And now the clouds swallow up our wishes. Music is the breath of life. And your spice is drowning mine out. All I can taste are the sides of my tongue. But I eat because I'm hungry. But not as hungry as the rest of the world who never got a chance to complain.

You have to step outside of what you've been pushed into and declare your circle as your own. Stop laughing at other people's jokes when you don't get it. You owe it to yourself.

I want to sit on verandas and talk to the friend of my lover's mother. Because I just found out I won't live forever and all my plans have changed. I bought you ginger snaps because I wanted you to be where I was when it smelled like heaven. But you're just sick and look at my gift with indifference. I don't care anymore and have new objects of my affection that only exist when I want them to.

Can I sit in the back of the bus and forget the ride? Give everything away until it's almost gone. And then savour the last bite for an eternity.

Let's climax and forget it ever happened until it happens again.

pics from cameroon

2006-08-11T18:47:00.000-07:00

2006-07-03T16:15:00.000-07:00

off to our "honeymoon"

2006-07-03T16:14:00.000-07:00

Maurice and Me

2006-07-03T16:11:00.000-07:00

Wedding Photo--wore african clothes

from Cameroon, Africa

2006-06-24T17:39:00.000-07:00

update: sorry it has been so long. have been so very busy. got married. yeah. and moved to Cameroon. yeah. So below is a little account of Cameroon so far. I really really really really appreciate those of you who have dropped me notes every now and then. It amazes me that you actually think of me. I will try to respond personally to those soon. Hope you are all doing well! Anna

You've heard it before from those who were older than you. If I had only known then, what I know now. Youth carries with it a sense of naivety that can only be squelched by years of accumulated retrospect. And that gunk of out-of-date wisdom just sits there serving no purpose other than to collect mold and mildew, producing a smell that reminds you of those whose aspirations died long before yours. I cannot pray a prayer large enough to encompass all of what the world needs because my own hunger kills my well bred sense of responsibility for others. How can I believe that God will provide for me when I cannot see that God is providing for my neighbor? For it is said that God is no respecter of persons. My eyes have been opened to the dead-end of having plenty. But intentionally purging yourself of what you have, so that you can relate to the suffering of others is not a step toward enlightenment because choosing to be poor will make you a slave to those who inherited the profession of poverty. We should all wear the nakedness with which we were born, because transparency is the universal language of survival.

But we don't play nice because our tastes don't match the tastes of our loved ones. Personality is the export good here. But it takes an even better brain to steer personality in the right direction. And it is beyond comprehension why everyone is in everyone's way, when there is plenty of space to exist with leftover elbow room. This country is like the middle child who craves attention from anyone at anytime. They imitate what has been done, just to be a premature part of what aging would have naturally produced. They are their own gods, creating life from the dust of the ground. I am ashamed to look at anyone in the eye here, because I feel that I don't yet belong in a world where desperation is the most common thread. Even though I am desperate in more ways than one, being white forgives all disparity, in the eyes of those who see themselves as slaves even to their own race.

Right now my biggest, shallow regret is that I did not pack more bug spray. For some reason, bugs like me more this time, now that I am here for good. Maybe it is their idea of entertainment--fleas and mosquitoes uniting to eat my flesh and blood, when they could have just as easily had their lunch at the pork slaughterhouse on the corner. I am trying to make my repellant last, spreading it evenly over my body and the kitchen. With one spray, I saw my own helplessness in the ant's life, which quickly died at my mercy--just because I didn't want to share what little food was left. But ants still keep climbing forever; no wonder they have been proverbially overdone for centuries. Their determination, however, didn't stop Maurice from eating a piece of bread that they had already tried to claim. They had already hollowed out one end and begun to tunnel their way through the French walls of delicacy, but one strong shake from the human warrior and they fell right back to where they had started. A pinch here and a pinch there and a few more shakes, made the bread, in Maurice's estimation, edible. And this is the line over which I am not yet calloused enough to cross. The thoughts of eating even one live ant that will scurry and swim in the pool of my mouth as long as possible before I can flush it, really grosses me out. I asked Maurice if it was an annoyance that I did not want to eat the bread that in my estimation had already gone to waste. He chalked up my reaction as white man's fear and I was left to silently wonder if there was some woman out there that would have readily and willingly eaten the bread and the ants with utmost thankfulness for Maurice's provision.

And I realize that the old adage "cleanliness is next to godliness" paints an ugly, conditional picture of God's love. There is none clean here, no not one. And squeezing faith out of a God turnip isn't going to bring enough water to wash away all our dirt.

And just when I express my lack of faith--outside my window, God begins to pour down enough wind and rain to clean this country of its sins for a day. But everyone is running for shelter because the lightning scares them away from coming clean. Why did God create such a temperamental continent? Was it a part of his original plan to make "Wade in the Water" Cameroon's national anthem? Fortunately, I was always mesmerized by mud puddles, and not having grown up with a swimming pool in my backyard, it was always my dream to find a mud puddle big enough in which to take a swim. I guess dreams do come true.

There is one that I have tried to reach since, through this person, my eyes were opened to God's quirky ways. But transparency was lost at birth when the poor soul's father left temporarily for a more lucrative calling. And ever since, no one can reach inside the crib from which the wrinkled baby was never able to emerge. For this reason, at night I am haunted by dreams in which my passion is redirected as physical strength in front of large groups of people. This climax of energy was only ever misunderstood and only deals with the imaginable, excluding any realistic and sustainable existence. I am just one of many who tried and will go to my grave still pent up with unspent affections.

2006-06-05T11:25:00.000-07:00

meandmybro.com

Competition

2006-01-25T12:52:00.000-08:00

I never liked competition anyway. It always seemed easier said than done. And no one, not even you likes second place. There shouldn’t even be a second place--much less a third or fourth. Even the one time that I placed first, it was a tie. It doesn’t mean much to be first but it hurts real bad to come in second. People that are not as good as me make it farther than I do everyday. It’s ok. It’s just that it makes it real hard to think I’m worth anything at all. I remember my very first day of kindergarten. It was my first day of being last. My first day of putting myself last so that others could be first. And yet I never stopped wanting to be first. I don’t know if you relate to this feeling at all. I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re surprised. For a really long time I was sinfully innocent and I survived by meeting everyone’s expectations that I always naively believed were for my own good. And even though I’ve since traveled dark and dirty roads that perfect people avoid, I still somehow believe I can please you because I’ll never be so good that I get to stop caring what you think. I can’t do it. I can’t do it. I am doing it. I’m doing it.

Life has a way of turning out a pattern. The longer we follow a certain pattern, the more definitive that pattern becomes. And everyone else can see what we’ve been weaving for ourselves. But we have sewn ourselves inside. In my early growing up years I was a quiet little girl with perfect blue eyes and beautiful blonde hair. I can still remember the first time I ever competed. But there was no competition. I was silent and shy. The victor. Because back then little girls won by getting in the back of the line. But at some point something changed.

I couldn’t believe the feeling I had in the moment that she told me I had missed it. I would have never missed it because missing wasn’t something I did. I had never missed anything. And I never needed to stand up and shout “pick me!” “pick me!” because I was the one doing the choosing. And I refused to believe that I was wrong. So I looked her straight in the face and said that I would not repeat the same thing the next day because I knew that I was right and she was wrong. She backed down because she knew she was already too old and shriveled up to convince me I was human just like her.

The night always came too quickly at my grandmother’s house. It hung over my head so that morning was my only comfort. Morning was bright, fresh and new. But night was dirty, stale and old. It was as if at night my grandma turned into the wolf that befriended Little Red Riding Hood. Her violent snoring scared me. But the morning always came. With the smell of bacon, eggs and biscuits. And since then I’ve always loved food. At one time I could eat four big biscuits that my grandma made especially for me. I smell my grandma now. And just because you’ve ever had a grandma doesn’t mean you smell what I smell. Her smell was never of flowers and perfume but it was a mixture of sweat, upholstery and lard.

2006-01-18T21:20:00.000-08:00

My Bro-in-law and his brother are trying out the podcasting world. Check it out. If you want to visit their actual site you can go to http://www.meandmybro.com. Hey to everyone.

"Welcome to MeandMyBro.com
Where two brothers have a lot to say about nothing.

We're glad you found us. We don't know HOW you found us, but here you are. This is a place where "keeping it real" is the theme. And two brothers arguing about things that nobody cares about is on the menu. That's right- it's just us hangin' out saying the things that pop into our heads before we have time to filter it. We'll take you on trips that we take. We'll give you food reviews on some of our favorite foods as well as things we've never tried before. We'll tell you about movies we've seen and tell you why you should or shouldn't waste your time with it. But beware- we are brothers so we tend to argue with each other about most anything.

So if you've got the stomach for it and about 20 minutes to kill check out the first episode of our new podcast called "Me and My Bro". Once you hear the first one you'll be begging us for the next. Listen through the player we've provided below... You're welcome!"

THE MOST AWESOME MUSIC TOOL EVER

2006-01-05T05:45:00.000-08:00

Hi Everyone,

I know it has been a while. The holidays have been really, really busy. There is a lot that I want to tell you and I will take the time later this evening probably. I also need to catch up on everyone. Hope you are all doing well. To those who have stayed in touch despite the hectic season---I really appreciate it!

This post is to thank BUD Buckley for sending me the most awesome musical invention ever. I have taken piano lessons since third grade, that is over 12 years of piano lessons-- and nothing has ever made so much theoretical musical sense to me! I can now play songs in every key and know which chords work with which chords, with a simple tool right at my finger tips. No cumbersome books, no confusing chord charts, no gobbedly gook, nerdy explanations.

This is a visual tool that helps you play the right chords instantly.

I have always had the problem of going to my grandparent's old fashioned church where they say on the cuff in a redneck accent, "let's get this in the key of Aflat major minor accidental third." Ok. That is a bit of an exaggeration. But now, I feel like I could play the piano at their church with no problem, because of this tool.

I haven't been so excited about a product since, mannn, I can't even think of something that has proven to be as beneficial as this new tool will prove to be, in my career and everyday feeling of "holding my own" in the world of music.

I would suggest that anyone reading this blog, that is into music, whether it be the playing the piano or guitar, or even if you are just a vocalist---EVERYONE, should put an order in for this product from Bud.

As soon as I get this month's paycheck, I am going to put in a order for everyone in my family.

Ok, I'll stop now. It's just that this is kind of emotional for me too. I have spent years feeling inferior for not being able to understand how "it all works." I have sat in piano lesson after piano lesson bug eyed, mindlessly shaking my head to theory lessons that I never though I would be able to use in a practical way.

This tool is what I need to do what I need to do.

Just this Sunday, my pastor asked me to transpose something that was too high for the men in the congregation to sing. NOW---I do not laugh at the idea. I am going to find a suitable key, using the tool that Bud sent.

Ok, I'll stop now. Thank you for taking the time to send your brilliant invention Bud! I will get the word out with everyone I know.

And to everyone else, thanks for listening to my spill. I am just so excited, that's all.

I will visit your blogs and catch up real soon.

Anna

Thank You

2005-12-14T22:53:00.000-08:00

Ok. I just wrote a pretty lengthy "thank you" post and just lost it. So, here goes again. Thanks for all of your words of affirmation. It really means a lot. My love language is words of affirmation.

Some certain someone thinks that I am weak because of my need for other people's affirmation. I am sleeping on it. But point taken, I am bothered by the fact that someone else thinks that I care what people think. :-)

Anyway, thanks again for your words of encouragement. It means a lot.

Anna